Body Language
by SinnersLikeUs
Summary: IoH: She was a natural born city girl. She wasn't cut out for farming; never mind taming some wild, impulsive, jungle man she met by coincidence while exploring one day. She had enough to handle without him. R&R.


**Disclaimer : I do not own Harvest Moon. -cries-**

–

Body Language:

Chelsea groaned for the umpteenth time that evening, this time kicking a rock that had been unfortunately placed in the aggravated girl's path. With one hand, she shifted her rucksack so that it was placed more evenly on her back while taking off her bandana with the other, using the cloth to wipe her forehead. This was just _awesome_. So. Freaking. Awesome.

The girl should have known better than to go exploring in the jungle by herself. She had absolutely no sense of direction. She should have just waited around for Wednesday, when her friend Vaughn would come over, and invited him along. Or even go over Natalie's house and ask the pink-haired woman to accompany her. But _no_, she'd been too excited and decided to venture off by herself. She'd been seemingly walking in circles for hours, and the sun was going down, and she was going to get stuck here in the dark. _Ah, well_, she mused to herself, _they'll find my body in the morning_.

She wondered how many times she had thought something similar in her life. Up until about a month ago, she'd lived in a big, bustling city with her family. After turning nineteen, she'd _oh so brilliantly _decided to move out and start a life somewhere new and exciting. This led to her getting stranded on this abandoned island with a few other people, and the old man had appointed her as rancher, saying they were going to revive the small piece of rock. Chelsea had eagerly agreed, thinking she'd be part of something fun and exciting.

Turns out, farming was a lot more difficult than she had thought. The young woman had never been the outdoorsy type, much preferring to stay at home and surf the internet. Unfortunately, her new house had no such thing. Plus, she had a whole ranch in the northern part of town to take care of. She was gradually getting better, and she was proud of herself, but it was still hard work.

Stopping, the tawny-haired girl glanced up at her surroundings. _Let's see_. Trees. Trees. Big rock. Another tree.

_Jesus_, how did those guys on the Discovery Channel do this?

Sitting down on the previously mentioned boulder, the girl let out a heaving sigh. Her feet hurt. Her back hurt. Her stomach was rumbling, and she probably smelt like a mixture between roadkill and her cow's pen. This was _not _how she wanted to spend her Saturday.

Dropping her bag on the ground, she looked again to the sky. It was pretty, sure, a mixture of blues and pinks and purples, but if Chelsea died tonight, she'd rather her last sight be something a little less cliché and overdone.

She kicked off her boots and laid down on the boulder. She heard her back crack uncomfortably and felt little pebbles digging into her skin through her thin shirt. _Awesome_, she thought again. Closing her eyes, she wondered how safe it would be to take a little nap.

...Probably not safe at all.

She sat back up and her back screamed at her in protest, but she ignored it. _I'm such a wimp_. She shoved her shoes back on and lifted her rucksack off the ground before setting off again. She'd find some food, and then concentrate on heading back towards the river, over the bridge, and back to town.

All this was probably much easier said than done, but Chelsea tried not to let this deter her. She had to get back. She had a life and responsibilities now.

She provided food for her village. She grew a variety of crops, and had a coop full of chickens, a dog named Spike, a cow, and a sheep that needed to be fed and attended to in the morning, as well as friends who would be worried about her.

When she was back in the city, she'd been a bit of a party girl, living off her parents' money and not having a care in the world. She'd dated and had fun with friends and didn't give a thought to the future.

However, that had all changed. _Goddamn conscious_, she thought wryly, letting a grimace grave her features. She felt she had to do something productive in life, and then her mother died...

She shook her head. She could bitch and moan as much as she wanted to later, but for now, she had more important matters on her hands.

Blue eyes surveyed the area ahead of her once again, not really expecting to find anything useful. And, whaddya know? She didn't.

Chelsea was beginning the hate the jungle. Seriously. Why did she help pay for that stupid bridge again?

Oh, right. _She _was curious about what was over here. Natalie had called it a stupid waste of money, but Chelsea was persistent, wanting to explore and ignoring her friend's reasoning.

_Ugh_. The tired girl was such an idiot.

Five minutes later, something blue and out of place caught her attention in her peripheral vision. She turned east towards it, and approached the thing. It was a neatly placed pile of blueberries on a stack of dry leave.

Okay, that was a little weird. Why the hell were blueberries placed so conveniently in the middle of the jungle? She'd been looking for what seemed like forever without finding so much as a scrap of food! This wasn't possible. Her suspicions nagged at her, but then her stomach growled, reminding her of how hungry she was.

_Screw it_. She dropped her bag and made a bee-line for the berries, coming to a halt when she heard movement. Glancing at a bush, she could have _sworn _she saw it move. She stared at it for a moment, and when it didn't come alive and eat her or anything, she shrugged it off as her being paranoid and once again approached her prize.

Just as the starving woman was about to bend down and reach for the mouth-watering delicacies, the leaves went flying upwards and she was suddenly suspended in a tree by some net. She screamed, eyes wide with abject terror before realizing something.

She was just caught in an animal trap.

She _was _a freakin' moron.

Letting out a string of colorful curse words, and shifted until she could look at the ground, where her rucksack lay eight feet below. Great. Just _great_. Who knows when this trap was set up? Years ago? Would the person who set it even be around to get her down from here? Or was she stuck for eternity?

Oh, well. At least the berries came along for the ride. Hopefully, they weren't poisoned. Or, maybe they were, which would also be good. Then she'd die from that instead of just rotting up here.

Popping some in her mouth, she came to the conclusion that nothing had ever felt so good. When she was done, however, she was still extremely hungry. _So not worth it_.

Trying to get comfortable as best as she could, she set herself up to wait for an estimated long amount of time.

Dear God, she was screwed.

–

She'd actually fallen asleep.

She supposes it couldn't be helped—Chelsea _had _been walking around all day, after all. The little break had been nice. Waking up sore, still suspended in a tree? Not so nice. Especially since it was dark now.

Well, not completely dark. The moon was bright above the trees, and she could actually see reasonably well.

A startling rustling of leaves alerted her she wasn't alone. She maneuvered herself so that she could cautiously stare down at the ground, expecting an animal. What she wasn't expecting was to see the silhouette of a person to be below her, rummaging through her bag.

"Hey!" Chelsea called out unthinkingly. Who the hell was this creep? "Get out of there! That's my stuff!" A thought came to her._ Oh, duh_. She should ask the person to help her down. "Um, could you give me a hand here, also?" she concluded awkwardly.

She couldn't see the person's features as it looked up at her, but she could definitely tell it was a male. No way a girl could be that big. However, she really couldn't make out any features, and he wasn't saying anything. "Uh, hello?" she called out.

The man bolted toward her tree and around it. She cussed. What a bastard! Had he just left her here to—

The net dropped from the tree, taking the farmer with it as it quickly descended toward the ground. The ground wasn't nearly as comfortable as it could have been, but Chelsea was sure she wasn't fatally injured as she lay flat on her back, looking up at the trees. Her spine hurt like a bitch, and she was positive that the stars she was seeing weren't actually in the sky.

Closing her eyes, she tried to blot out the throbbing in her skull. Dammit, that had hurt like hell. When blue eyes reopened again, they were inches away from a pair of narrowed brown eyes, scrutinizing her carefully.

Shrieking, the girl scrambled backwards, ignoring the pain that exploded in her back. The man was illuminated by the moonlight in all his tall, dark glory. He was a like giant, with spiky brown hair, tan skin, brown eyes, and a body most celebrities would probably sell their souls for. He held a spear—and honest-to-God _spear—_in his left hand, and was dressed like Tarzan.

She couldn't help herself. She was scared shitless, and Tarzan was about to murder and rob her. So, as any other sane person would do, Chelsea burst out laughing. Tears welled up in her eyes and she clutched at her sides, probably looking like some kind of lunatic, but that really didn't matter at the moment, did it?

Mr. Tarzan barked something at her, but she couldn't hear him over her giggles. She tried to calm her breathing, finally stopping when she noticed his glare. A shame, really. He had really pretty eyes...

"Who... Who are you?" she managed, voice a little raspy. God, she was crazy, wasn't she? What _normal _person outside of horror films as their murderer who they are?

The man tilted his head to the side at her, as if he didn't understand. His eyebrows creased, and he lifted his spear before coming towards her.

"Hey! Hey, no, none of that. I come in peace. Seriously." She rose her hands in what she hoped was a peaceful gesture. He stopped his approach, giving her another once over and making her feel slightly uncomfortable. She crossed her arms in front of her, realizing how much it hurt just to do that. Great. She probably misplaced her spine.

Tall, dark, and handsome took another step towards her, opened his mouth, and said something in the most attractive, toe-tingling voice Chelsea had _ever _heard in her life. Problem was that she didn't understand a single word of it. Whatever he was speaking, it sure wasn't English, nor was it any language she'd ever studied before. Shaking her head, she said, "I don't understand."

He scowled at her, marching towards her and causing her to tense up and scramble backwards again until her already injured back hit a tree trunk. She groaned, and suddenly her view of the forest was blocked out by brown eyes. Their noses almost touched, and she could feel his warm breath on her lips.

Blushing, she glared at him, raising a hand to push at his bare chest. "Personal space, buddy!" she demanded, giving him a futile shove. He trapped her hand between his own and the center of his chest. She could feel her heart beat. Her fingertips twitched at the intimate contact. The man raised his other hand, dropping the spear and resting beside her head on the tree, effectively trapping her.

Her own pulse beating madly, she tried pushing him again to only get the same outcome. He once again said something that sounded like a question, and she sighed. "Alright," she said, "We have some serious communication issues here. And, honestly, this relationship won't work without them, so if you don't mind..." Chelsea trailed off, trying to pull herself away from her captor. He held tight, shifting so that she was looking right into his face.

"Woman," he murmured in that baritone of him. Gosh, that _voice_...

She gave him a nervous smile. "Oh, hey, you _do _speak English! What's your name?"

He cocked his head to the side again. "Name?" he repeated.

"Me? I'm Chelsea," she answered.

He nodded, seemingly excited. "Sea! Sea!"

Her lip curled in distaste. What the hell? "No, not _the _sea! _Chelsea_!" She pointed to herself. "Chelsea." She sounded out the word clearly.

His own perfect lips tilted to a pout. He moved the hand holding her own, pointing at her face. "Chelsea?" he asked. She nodded, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. What happened to knowing English? He grabbed at her hand once more, putting it on his own face. "Shea," he stated proudly. He smiled at her.

"U-Uh, right. Shea," she agreed, uncomfortable. "Well, it's been nice talking to you, Shea, but I have to get back home now. You wouldn't happen to know the way to town would you?" He didn't respond, and she really hadn't expected an answer at this point. "'Course not." She managed to pull her hand away from the wild, jungle man and grip the bark behind her, pulling herself up to stand. _God_, that hurt. It reminded her off the time she sprained her ankle skiing, except a million times worse. What had she done to her poor body? Wincing, she looked down at the man named Shea, who was still kneeling on the floor staring back up at her. She raised a hand in a wave. "See ya," she murmured, stepping away to get her back.

_God_, her back hurt...

Black spots danced across her vision, and before she hit the ground for the second time that night, warm, brown eyes caught her attention as she kissed the forest floor.

–

**A/N : I love Shea. And he reminds me so much of Tarzan. His broken English is adorable, but I thought, what if he didn't know _any_ English when we met him? And so... this was born. I'm proud of it, considering I loathe first chapters. **

**R&R!**


End file.
